Brad's Story
by Windra
Summary: Brad Vickers was always noted as a Chickenheart to many of his comrades... But the Spencer Estate incident is about to change his life, and now he has to prove himself. See the events of the games and between them, as well as after, through his eyes.
1. Part I

Brad's Story  
  
  
  
I piloted the chopper above the Spencer Estate, looking down at the mansion with worry clear on my face.  
  
"A grand job you did...," I whispered quietly to myself, scolding myself for actions.  
  
I was the helicopter pilot of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team, and I was supposed to be there for my team to teleport them from place to place. And now, I had ditched them because I leapt before I looked.  
  
I was the ChickenHeart, a name I earned because of my reputation to flee at the sight of danger...  
  
Before I got into this mess, the Alpha Team and I had been sitting in the S.T.A.R.S. office, listening to the Bravo's progress towards the Spencer Estate. The cannibal murders had been coming and going rapidly, and we finally decided to investigate the area that was most likely the place the the murderers spawned from.  
  
Then I had picked up a signal from the Bravo Team's chopper pilot, Kevin Dooley. I can still hear his message echoing through my head.  
  
"The engine has gone out! We have to make an emergency landing! We will land a-"  
  
Then there was static.  
  
We took off in our chopper to find out what had happened to them. The engine had a full tank before they left, and it was in fine condition. It shouldn't have just given out like that!  
  
If only we had known...  
  
We landed along the outskirts of the mansion, and Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield, Forest Speyer, Barry Burton, Joseph Frost, and Albert Wesker had exited the chopper, going off to find out what happened to the Bravo Team, as we had lost all contact with them.  
  
The moment they disappeared, I could feel eyes staring at me. I looked out of the window to see dozens of white, souless eyes glaring at me through the darkness, slowly moving towards the chopper. That alone had unnerved me, but I forced myself to stay calm.  
  
...But when I heard screams from my Teammates, and gunfire following, the creatures darted at the helicopter, and as they ran past the search lights, I could see their bodies.  
  
They weren't dogs...  
  
Their skin was decaying, their bodies slimy and blood-coated. I could see bones protruding from their skin, and some of them were missing limbs, eyes, and ears. One was even in half.  
  
One of the...'dogs' had made its way to the open door of the chopper, the one that the rest of my teammates had gone through. I leapt into the 'copter, charging at me with extreme speed. I jumped out of the way, pushing my door open as I did. It leapt over the chair where I had been and out the door, tripping over its legs. I quickly sprung towards the door and slammed it shut as the monster began to get up and ram at the door.  
  
The dog crashed into the door and fell backwards, twitching slightly and growling angrily.  
  
By that time, I had lost it. I acted upon instinct, grabbing onto the controls and pulling the chopper into the air as the Alpha Team began to run to it.   
  
I could barely make out the anger and desperation on their faces as I took off into the sky, and I could dimly hear Chris yell out, "Wait! Don't go!"  
  
But I didn't wait, and I did go. I couldn't control myself.   
  
...and now they were stranded in the mansion. I hoped they were safe...  
  
...but I seriously doubted that the Spencer Estate would be a safe spot in the middle of a forest full of monster dogs.  
  
By the time I got a grip on myself, I was high above the mansion. My eyes went wide as the realization of what I did sunk into me.  
  
ASSHOLE!  
  
I began to panic again, grabbing the radio and starting to speak into it hastily, not bothering with the proper radio speaking procedures.  
  
"Alpha Team, report! Please!"  
  
I only got static.  
  
You really did it this time, Brad! You probably got them all killed because of your instincts!  
  
I tried countless times to get ahold of the team afterwards, gripping onto hope as if it were my only way of living. Hours passed, and still I got nothing.   
  
"Alpha Team, do you read me?"  
  
No response.  
  
I was giving up by now. The helicopter's fuel tank was getting low, and so was my hope.  
  
One last time...  
  
"Alpha Team! This is Brad! Do you copy!?"  
  
Silence, and, as I was about to turn the helicopter around and head towards Raccoon City, a single sound broke through the static.  
  
"Brad! Thi... Jill! I copy! Do....hear me?...Over!"  
  
I froze, then began to grin. Jill was alive! Maybe the others were, too!  
  
"I copy! Are the others okay? Over!"  
  
She began to speak again, but the static cut her off.   
  
"Jill, are you there?!"  
  
Only static.  
  
She was still alive, I was pretty sure, but the reception was extremely weak. Giving a silent laugh of triumph, I continued to glide the chopper over the mansion, silently swearing that I would stay there to get my teammates the hell out of there, even if the fuel ran out and I was sent to my death.  
  
About an hour passed, and the fuel was getting very low. It was only a matter of minutes before the chopper ran out of fuel.  
  
I was hovering over the helipad of the mansion, looking down and hoping that my teammates would show up soon. I had found it while searching the outside of the mansion for the others, and had tried sending a message about it through the radio. I didn't know if the others heard me, but, if they did, I was sure they would come. I just hoped they would hurry.  
  
A sudden noise caught my attention - the sound of a door slamming shot. I blinked, quickly looking out of the window to see four figures walk out of the door beside the helipad. They were Barry, Jill, Chris, and the Bravo Team's medic, Rebbecca Chambers.  
  
Four people out of eleven, not including me. What the HELL happened?!  
  
I began to lower the helicopter to the pavement, but jerked up again slightly when a large, clawed hand struck through the ground.   
  
I watched in horror as a large human-like beast emerged from the newly formed hole in the ground, growling loudly enough so that I could hear it over the helicopter's engine.  
  
Its body was tall and muscular, a pale blue in color. It's left hand was clenched in a tight fist, and its right one was tipped with two foot claws, each tipped with fresh blood. Its huge, pumping heart was exposed, and its lips had been surgically removed, giving it a large, evil grin. It had to be around seven feet tall.  
  
WHAT THE HELL?!  
  
The beast lumbered towards the group, and I watched as Chris began to fight it with a shotgun, Barry backing him up. With each round the two fired at the beast, it was pushed back ever so slightly. They would never be able to kill that thing.  
  
But I could help...  
  
I swung around in my seat to look at the back of the inside of the chopper. My eyes met with a rocket launcher lying in the middle of the floor. Grinning, I put the chopper on auto-pilot and ran into the back, grabbing the launcher and nearly collapsing from its weight. I pushed myself towards the door, pushing it open with my shoulder and thrusting the launcher to the center of the helipad.  
  
"Chris, use it!" I shouted over the engine's thrum. "Destroy the monster with it!"  
  
The Alpha Team member ran for it, grabbing it before the monster could swing at him again. He dodged the beast's claws and leapt back, hoisting the rocket launcher onto his shoulder and aiming it at the beast.  
  
He fired it.  
  
There was a blast of light and sound as the rocket met with the body of the monster. Its body was blown apart, blood splattering on the walls and the chopper. My stomach turned as I saw the gore, but I forced myself to stay calm as I ran back to the controls and took over.  
  
The helicopter landed onto the helipad, and, as soon as it did, the four surviving S.T.A.R.S. members jumped into it without a moment's hesitation.  
  
I could feel in my bones that something was about to happen, so I didn't dwandle. I began to pilot the chopper away from the mansion, and I could feel the piece of machinery shake as another burst of light and heat emmitted from behind us.  
  
The mansion had exploded.  
  
I didn't ask why, knowing that my comrades were exhausted and hurt both physically and mentally. I would ask later, when we were safe and back in the city.  
  
But now wasn't the time. 


	2. Part II

_**Brad's Story**_

_**Part II**_

It was safe to assume that they would never tell me exactly what had happened in that wretched mansion. But then...they had every reason not to.

After all, wasn't I the reason they had gone into the place in the first place? Wasn't I the reason so many of them didn't come back? Wasn't I the reason they had to face whatever the hell was inside that place aside from the monstrocity that I saw chasing them, and fighting them, on the rooftop?

I could have saved them. I could have saved all of them, but because of me...

It's been at least a week since the mansion exploded behind us in that chopper. A week since we last heard from Joseph and Wesker and Enrico... A week since all but a small handful of us survived.

To me, it seems like that week's been an eternity.

I've been having nightmares since the moment we got back. Nightmares of that...that horrendous beast that was atop the rooftop, and of the angry glares of the fallen team members staring at me with such hatred...

At least some of us survived, I guess.

In the week that we arrived back from the mansion, the paparazzi has been having a field day. People of course had heard about the Spencer Estate, and many had actually seen the huge fireball looming over the treeline and felt the initial blast of the explosion. Many heard that loud crackling boom that followed as debris and flame flew forth and disintigrated whatever evidence of whatever had happened there. On top of the reporters going at the subject, the chief and mayor, Brian Irons, vented his rage on all of those who were involved in what had happened. Chris and Jill were expelled form the team, along with Barry and Rebecca. Though I wonder why he didn't expel me... What use was the Special Tactics and Rescue Squad if there was only one member on the team that couldn't even handle a gun properly?

And why would he be so pissed off? The explosion of the mansion heralded the end of the cannibalistic murders that were occuring. For once, the citizens of Raccoon were relaxed.

Irons expelled them because he accused them of being drunk and setting the mansion aflame, causing it to explode when the fire met the generators and gasonline inside. Even I knew that was total bullshit - I saw them fight for their lives before I flew the coop, saw those sickly canines chasing after them after taking down Joseph...

Whenever I opened my mouth to protest to him because I knew that the accusation was false, Jill or Rebecca shot me a quelling look, and although neither contained anger both held plenty of worry of what would come. They found something out in that mansion, yet they won't tell me.

But whatever it was changed their lives.

Rebecca no longer seems to be the spirited young eighteen-year-old she was, and Chris is no longer poking fun at the others in the team because of their unusual habits and fuming when they poked at his. Jill has become more quiet then I've ever seen, since she was usually chatting away with other members of the team back then, and Barry... Well, he's been carrying a picture of his wife and kids around in his wallet, and in moments when he didn't think anybody was looking I would glance over to see him looking fondly at the photos.

Of course I would run into them every now and then in Raccoon City. They were merely suspended form the force, but would come back... If Irons tried to force the accusation on them again to try and keep them form ever returning, I would speak up. I wasn't _that_ much of a Chickenheart.

Back to the point. I would run into them once and a while, and every time I would it would be a simple "Hello" and we'd part our ways. And every time I could see those deepened emotions of fear and anxiety relfected in their eyes. I wanted to know what caused them to worry so... I wanted to know what was haunting their minds.

I wanted to know what ended the lives of our teammates, and the spirits of the surviving ones.

But how was I supposed to find out? They no longer trusted me. They had every reason in the world not to.

I ran into a stroke of luck two weeks later. I walked into Jack's Bar, the oh-so famed place of Raccoon in which many people loved to go and get drunk, fight, or just flat out be wierd at. I came here often, but I never saw any of the others here. I was surprised to see Barry drinking up here. After a moment's hesitation, I walked up to him and took up a seat beside im. He looked at for me for a minute with a raised brow, then ordered up another drink - I followed suit.

There was a tense moment of silence for a long time, and I broke it by starting off into casual talk. So we chatted for about ten or so minutes. After all, we were never cold or distant - despite the cowardice I tended to display, Barry and I had both been on the S.T.A.R.S. team the longest, aside from Wesker, and we both knew each other well. We were friends.

Once we were chatting comfortably, I rubbed my eyes and sighed. He glanced at me with the risen brow, and I saw him tense a little. He knew what I was about to ask, but he didn't seem worried... Well, worried. But not about what to say. Most likely about my reaction. So he cut me off with a slow, weak grin.

"You really want to know, don't you?"

A pause, then I nodded. "You've all changed - know whatever it is you know. I just...just want some answers."

The smile on Barry's face was small and wryly humored. And sad. "We all want answers now..." He paused, rubbing his forehead. "Listen...," he added, and his voice was lowered to a whisper, as if he was suspicious that others were listening. "Check your mail tomorrow. You'll see."

He left afterwards, but held true to his word. I went to check my mail the following day, and within it I found a large parcel with Jill's writing scrawled acros it. It was something like a package delivery box, like it came from FedEx or something akin to that. I brought it home, opened it, and found within it small journals and numerous papers stapled together but seperate. There were memos within the box, journals, letters... There was even a CD with Kenneth's name written atop it.

I read one of the letters. My eyes scanned over each letter with sudden growing despair, each word adding to my dread and that knot within my stomach.

**June 3, 1998  
My dearest Alma.**

**Let me first apologize for not being able to call you. A man wearing  
sunglasses didn't permit any phone calls. Sorry Alma.**

**I sit here trying to think of where to begin, of how to explain in a few  
simple words all that's happened in my life since we last spoke, and  
already I fail.**

**I hope this letter finds you well, and that you'll forgive the tangents  
of my pen; this isn't easy for me.**

**Even as I write, I can feel the simplest of concepts slipping away, lost  
to feelings of despair and confusion -- but I have to tell you what's in  
my heart before I can rest. Alma, please believe that what I'm telling  
you is the truth.**

**The entire story would take hours for me to tell you, and time is short,  
so accept these things as fact: last month there was an accident in the  
lab and the virus we were studying leaked.**

**All my colleagues who were infected are dead or dying, and the nature of  
the disease is such that those still living have lost their senses.  
This virus robs its victims of their humanity, forcing them in their  
sickness to seek out and destroy life.**

**Even as I write these words, I can hear them, pressing against my door  
like mindless, hungry animals.**

**Alma, I have tried to survive only to see you again. But my efforts  
only delayed the inevitable; I am infected, and there is no cure for  
what will follow -- except to end my life before I lose the only thing  
that separates me from them.**

**My love for you.**

**In an hour I'll have entered my eternal sleep where there is peace.  
Please understand. Please know that I'm sorry.**

**Martin Crackhorn**

The virus they were studying broke out. Virus...a virus that robs a victim of their humanity. Was the virus the murderer of my fellow teammates?

Upon watching the video left behind by Kenneth, I dicovered what had been the cause for their untimely demise. And I was completely mortified by it.

Put simply, they were zombies. Flesh-eating, decaying, mindless zombies. Like the shit that came out of _Night of the Living Dead_...

But this was real.

As I read on, I dicovered more to the entire story. The virus was developed by Umbrella, and one memo included the fact that they had bribed Chief Irons more than enough times to make him completely absorbed into them, influenced by them, and corrupted by them. That would explain his sudden anger and contempt at Jill, Barry, Chris, and Rebecca.

And I also discovered something more chilling. Something about our respected captain Albert Wesker. Well, once respected. As I think of him now, my insides turn cold and my stomach twists. He turned traitor on us all... He planned to kill of the members of the S.T.A.R.S. Team, myself included, because we were sent to the mansion to find the cause of the cannibal attacks and would discovery Umbrella's dark secrets. He too was working for Umbrella, and he too...he too had a deadly mind. Apparently his plans were thwarted by Jill and Chris and the others.

And apparently his death didn't bother the others, either. Now understanding the man's true motives, I became as emotionless about his death as they had.

I also now understood why Jill and Rebecca silenced me when I went to speak for them before Irons. I was the only one on S.T.A.R.S. now, the only one allowed to enter the R.P.D. without being watched like a hawk. And I realized, absently, that they were depending on me for information about the going ons within the precint. I would provide, secretly, the information they needed, even if it meant my expellment from the R.P.D. forever.

My comrades, my friends (even if they did poke fun at me for being cowardly. Just because I had a habit for avoiding the dangers of the job didn't mean they despised me for it. They liked to mock me, true, but we were friends. Most of us, anyway) fell because of Umbrella, and so many other people fell victim to them, dying as lab rats as Lisa Trevor, a girl in one of the reports, did. The civilians, too, were put at risk... And what Umbrella was doing was horrendous, murderous...disgusting.

And if Barry Burton, Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, and Rebecca Chambers intended to bringUmbrella down because of whatthey did, I, Brad Vickers would do allI could to aid them.

Even a coward can be strong sometimes.

--

Part II is complete! Sorry about not holding true to my promise of continuing this for the past few months. I was truly busy. But I intend to continue the story until...well, until the end of Brad's story.

Also, the next chapter of Raccoon City : Demon's Gate REvisited will be finished next week, since I have that week off. -


End file.
